“‘Bless you, Jeames—bless you, my boy.’
“We went rambling all over the island that day. We visited the fort, where James had many friends; then we went up a beautiful glen, and on reaching the top we struck straight off at right angles, and a walk of about half a mile took us to one of the most pleasantly situated farms I have ever seen. It was owned by the farmer, a Scotsman of the name of MacDonald. Nothing flimsy about this fine house. The walls were built of sturdy stone, and must have been some feet thick, so that indoors in the cheerful parlour it was cool and delightful, especially so with the odour of orange blossom blowing through the open window and pervading the whole room.
“‘Man, James, I’m so pleased. Here! Hi! Mrs Mac, where are you? Here’s James Malone, the honest, simple sumph come back again. Jamie, man, ye must stop all night and give us a song.’
“‘We—ll—I—’
“‘No wells nor I’s about it. And your friend here too.’
“Mrs Mac was a very little body, with rosy cheeks, a merry voice, and blue eyes that looked you through and through.
“A little girl and boy came running in, and James soon had one on each knee; and while I and MacDonald talked in the window recess, he was deep in the mysteries of a mermaid story, his tiny audience listening with wondering eyes and rosy lips apart.
“Mrs Mac had gone bustling away to send in a dram of hollands, cunningly flavoured with seeds and fruit rind. She disappeared immediately again, to send orders down to James’s Town for fish and fowl.
“Of course we would stay all night?
“‘Well,’ I said, ‘the ship is safe, unless a tornado blows.’